mountains laced with boulder-strewn rivers
rise in rows along the western portion of the
country. A fertile belt checkered with farms
and citrus groves stretches from north to south
across Swaziland's midsection. Farther east,
sleek cattle graze on the low bush veld.
When I met the king a year ago, in the par
lor of his Victorian-style plantation house at
Masundwini-"the place of the palm trees"
I could not help wondering about the coun
try's future. Was this tiny land ready to move
out from under British protection? How could
it survive, caught between the opposing racial
policies of the Republic of South Africa and
the rest of the continent?
But the Lion King spoke hopefully of Swa
ziland's future. He talked, too, about the first
white men-British and Boer traders-who
had arrived almost 150 years ago.
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"My ancestor, Sobhuza I, dreamed that
they would come," he said. "They would be
the color of yellow mealies [corn], and their
hair would be like the tails of cattle. They
would speak in an unknown tongue and know
not the courtesies of humanity.
"When they did come, our wise king warned,
it would be futile to take up arms against
them, for their weapons could kill at great
distance. So we received them peacefully."
Swazis Signed Away Their Heritage
King Sobhuza's account of what followed
reminded me of our own wild frontier days
in the United States-the gold strikes, the
gamblers, the cattle thieves. Inevitably, the
Swazis fell prey to slick concessionaires. As
their king signed paper after paper, their land,
their minerals, and their grazing rights melted